When the World Comes Crashing Down
by Lire
Summary: This is it. When it comes down to it, can Lucy forgive Simon? And can he forgive himself? *Finished.*
1. And So It Begins

Even while he waited anxiously for lunch, Simon was unbelievably glad to be in Algebra II. He'd forgotten, as he always did, what the middle of September really meant. It was, after all, easy to forget. No one marked it on a calendar or flew a flag at half-mast.  
  
If he had been anyone else, as he used to dream he was, then this particular time of year would have meant nothing more than a greater ease in navigating his schedule and a lessening of his homework load. HE wouldn't have been painfully aware that just as students' schedules began to make sense, the teachers began to go beyond the introductory units and individualize their lesson plans.  
  
But he was a Camden, albeit a rebellious one, and he could never escape for the middle of September. It had begun with Chemistry. He'd held his breath when Mr. Avon pulled him aside, remembering Biology. ("Simon," his teacher had said, "How's your brother? I hear he's going to be a doctor. Anyway, for the next month we'll be studying evolution. Maybe you'd prefer to work on astronomy?" What could he have said but yes?) Mr. Avon, though, merely handed him his first test, a red C at the top.  
  
"I had your brother. Knowing him, and knowing you, this is not anywhere near your potential. Explain."  
  
The command knocked him a little bit off balance. "There's nothing to explain. I just can't be expected to bother."  
  
"If you were any other student, I'd ask if there were problems at home," his teacher said. 'If only you knew,' thought Simon. "But I'll assume that's unlikely. I hate to see a student fail out of his own pig- headedness, but there it is. Give your brother my regards."  
  
Simon didn't answered, and Mr. Avon frowned. "I expected better from Matt's brother, but I suppose every family has some bad seed." Again, Simon was surprised, but not shocked. He knew what the general opinion of him around school was. "Worse than Mary," came the rumors. "She was still okay until they locked basketball. He doesn't care at all."  
  
He knew the rumors. He knew his parents knew the rumors. But his life wasn't interesting anymore-he couldn't get married for a couple of years, at least. Biblical Literature wasn't any different either, but his teacher obviously couldn't change anything in a class already deemed acceptable by his parents.  
  
For that matter, there were no real Camden assignments in Speech, but he knew from last years juniors that there usually was a speech on "Personal Ethics in Teenage Sexuality" that was conspicuously absent from the syllabus this year. And his parents wanted to know why he had no friends? 'Cause his very presence in their class caused his teachers to change their planning-usually taking away the most interesting parts.  
  
In German II his teacher had added an introductory unit on the vocabulary for items and people in a church. Again, this earned him dirty looks from his classmates. They always blamed him for his parents hijinks-as if he wanted extra work anymore than they did.  
  
Thankfully math would be a respite from all that-even though lunch would come next. 'Maybe if I sit out on those corner steps, no one will notice that I'm sitting alone.' Two weeks of no company in the lunch room were more than enough for him to get the hint. Morris has graduated, and so we're closing ranks against you.  
  
In his less bitter moments, he couldn't really fault them. After all, they talked to him, and anything they say could get spread over the entire town. But at least when Morris had still been in town, they had pretended to like him. At least he had a date for tonight.  
  
At least time passed for Camdens just as well as it did for the rest of the world. 'Otherwise,' he decided, 'I don't think I would survive.'  
  
In U. S. History his teacher pulled him aside to tell him, "If anything about this course ever makes you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me right away. The last thing I need is someone trying to shut me down. Intelligent thought is more important than your parents' little crusade, so you can leave my class if something bothers you, got it?"  
  
Simon got it. But at least he was honest, which is more than most people were to him.  
  
His Late British Literature teacher was the nicest. "I don't know much about you. For all I know you would rather read 'Dracula.' I think it's got a good moral message. But I think your parents would feel more comfortable if you read Dickens instead. 'Hard Times' really is quite good."  
  
'And when the day ends, I just have to go home,' he thought. 'I knew I hated the middle of September for a reason.' 


	2. A Pleasant Interlude

"Morning has broken, like the first morning."*  
  
Simon's radio greeted him. He yawned. It was still dark outside, but that was the only disadvantage to getting up this early. At five in the morning, it may not be light, but there weren't any other people, either. These two precious hours were the only part of his day he could truly call his own.  
  
"Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird."  
  
Leaving the oldies station on, Simon opened his math book. So far, he actually kind of enjoyed Algebra II. Now that they could use calculators, math had gotten simpler instead of harder. In half an hour, he shut his book on the assignment. An A would be nice, even if it was just in 'normal' math, unlike Matt had been.  
  
Simon grimaced at the thought. He couldn't get compared to Mary or Lucy (though he had to admit, that would probably be unfavorable as well) it was always Matt-this, and Matt-that. Matt who'd succeeded and wanted to be a doctor-Matt who'd taken such an interest in everyone else's lives. Maybe that was it-he just couldn't take the time to care about what his sibling's did. He had his own life, they had theirs. It would work out, eventually, or it wouldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to care.  
  
Simon then didn't do his Chemistry. His teacher had already decided not to like him, and was too busy comparing him with Matt to see anything about Simon, so it didn't really matter whether he actually did the work or not. If he was lucky, then his teacher would "creatively" add a few numbers, and his parents would be satisfied with the grade he hadn't earned.  
  
The last thing he had to do this morning was read 'Hard Times.' Ninth grade and 'Great Expectations' had kindled in him any great love of Dickens. (But he hadn't skipped school about it.) However, the second chapter quickly grabbed his attention. "Facts, facts, facts, without end, Amen." He turned the page. "Interesting. Dad would certainly disagree, but do I?"  
  
The book fell onto his bed. "Well." He finally asked of himself again. "Do I?" So much of what he did was to play to other people. No one would believe that a "rebel" got up at five to do homework and listen to oldies. That was kind of the point-if people believed what he wanted them to believe, life was a lot easier.  
  
Lonelier, perhaps, but much easier. After all, if people's expectations of you were low, it didn't matter if you didn't fulfill them. That, at least, was thing he'd learned from his family.  
  
*The song is "Morning has Broken" by Cat Stevens.* 


	3. It Comes With a Cry in the Afternoon

"Tell me you're not serious!"  
  
"I guess I am."  
  
"But really, couldn't you find someone better?"  
  
"Yeah, but he's important!"  
  
"But he's Virgin Camden!"  
  
Simon froze, regretting that he'd even begun to listen to the conversation.  
  
"I know, but here's the thing, as rank as he is, if I date him, my parents will believe I'm dating other "good boys" too-and they won't get on my ass anymore."  
  
"Still, a date with Virgin Camden-ick!"  
  
"I know, beyond ick, but all I have to sacrifice is tonight, and then I can go out with anyone."  
  
Simon had been surprised when Isa asked him out, but he hadn't realized she'd just been using him! "You mean you're just using me?"  
  
"You shouldn't interrupt, Simon," her friend said.  
  
"Simon, you couldn't expect someone like to me to have anything to do with someone like you without an ulterior motive!" Isa exclaimed. "I assumed you'd figure it out yourself."  
  
"No, I thought you might be a decent person!"  
  
"Simon, you're a junior. Naïveté stopped being cute a long time ago."  
  
"Then I'm not taking you out tonight!" Simon scrabbled to win the argument.  
  
"Fine then. I'll just say I'm meeting you some place, and my plan still holds true. Even better, I don't have to spend any time with you. Thanks Simon that works out way better" Isa turned away.  
  
Simon slammed his locker and hurried out. And just this morning he'd been looking forward today so much. A Friday, and a date with the coolest girl in school at the end of it. He carefully did not scream while he was still on school grounds. Driving home, before he picked up Ruthie, he pulled over in the Glen Oak Park and Forest. "God!" he screamed. "If we're supposed to be so protected by you, why do things like this happen to me! Why don't I have any friends? I hate you! I hate you!" God didn't answer, and Simon drove away.  
  
Ruthie was unusually silent on the way home, asking only, "Who's your date with tonight?"  
  
"Oh, you don't know her."  
  
"Are you sure? I know lots of people?"  
  
"And I know that we're almost home," Simon managed to duck his mother.concern wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now, and "Kids Today" not something he wanted to explain. 'Sometime you guys'll have to realize that that 'Teen Depression' Newsweek cover was no accident,' he thought to his parents, 'but I don't have anything left in me right now.'  
  
'I need to be alone.'  
  
'But anyone will just waltz into my room if they feel like they need something. Mom and Dad's room is right out, so's the girls' room, and Kevin took over the garage apartment,' he stopped in mid-frantic pace. 'What am I gonna do? The bathroom! No one'll barge into the bathroom!'  
  
* * *  
  
At first he thought he had just walked in on Lucy. She was standing very still, staring into the mirror. He realized that what he'd first took to be a very short white shirt was really a bra. Simon turned bright away, and began to back out the door when his sister turned to face him full on. There were tears, silently pouring out her eyes, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs and she wasn't making a sound. Her arms were bruised and there was a still-bleeding cut on her stomach.  
  
"Ohmygod. What happened?"  
  
"Kevin," she managed to get out.  
  
"You're kidding!"  
  
She turned away, and her eyes spilled over.  
  
"But he seemed so." he wanted to say nice. He felt like he should say nice. But seeing his sister in front of him. His sister. Bruised and battered. Like a statistic. And all he'd thought was, 'Why can't Lucy marry the guy and move out. Is this partially my fault?'  
  
Yes.  
  
Lucy, the girl he'd known through his entire life, was suddenly standing in front of him, beaten, her head down, her eyes from crying, a total stranger. And she began to whisper. "It didn't start out this way." She looked Simon in the eye, briefly, the looked back down, as if frightened. "He would bop me, with his hand or something. Once a rolled-up newspaper. I never fought back or anything. I thought it was just a phase. This girl at school and her boyfriend used to play-fight all the time."  
  
"Play-fighting doesn't make you bleed!"  
  
"I guess the line was too thin, or I'm too stupid. But then He was hitting me. Real hits, the kind that leave marks and make you cry. This one," she pointed to a bruise, "is because I 'didn't know to stay out of his personal life.' This one," and another, "is for looking at another guy. I didn't realize what I'd done until he explained it to me. That really big purple one is for keeping a diary. I should share all my thoughts with Him. I don't even remember how I got most of the others. Not doing something right or being too nosy. He slapped me for insulting his partner, but that didn't leave a mark so I don't suppose it matters."  
  
Simon felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't stand to listen to the terrible monologue anymore. This had been going on, and he hadn't even noticed it. His sister, the girl he used to look up to, who he'd believed had passed on the Curse of the Middle Child to him. But she'd kept it. He wanted to run, to get out of there, to be able to deny any relation between the weeping, battered girl standing in front of him, and himself.  
  
But he could not.  
  
"And this last one, the one that's from just a little bit ago. He came at me with a kitchen knife and said I was too fat." The tears had stopped, though their tracks were still plainly visible.  
  
"Lucy, let me help you."  
  
"Don't you have more important things to do?"  
  
"No," Simon said emphatically. He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out gauze and surgical tape. Very carefully, he attended to his work, still not wanting to believe what he was doing. "There." Simon hugged his sister.  
  
"This is why I won't marry him, you know. If I married him, this would never stop. And I could never marry someone who might harm my children."  
  
"Don't worry, Luce, I'll help you."  
  
She pulled away. "I don't think anyone can." 


	4. Not Now Together

Note on the timing: The later scenes of "Bowling for Eric" provided too much opportunity to miss, so, Simon's not grounded, "The Enemy Within" didn't happen, and right after the chapter 3, Simon finds out their going bowling.  
  
* * *  
  
Bowling.  
  
Anything thing else he could handle, but bowling? After what he now knew? It would be impossible. Definitely, impossible. "Mom, restrict me from family!" he begged.  
  
"No, I think this will be good for you," she said.  
  
"But Mom-" what could he say next? If you knew what I knew? He'd promised Lucy he wouldn't tell.  
  
"No buts! You're Dad wants family time and we're going to have family time, whether I like it or not!"  
  
Simon got ready to go bowl. Lucy didn't talk to him, and moved silently through the house. He wanted to stop her, tell her, "Talk to Dad, get rid of Kevin," but he couldn't. He'd seen it, in her eyes. Fear-not just of Kevin, but of him as well, and he couldn't take it.  
  
"Everyone in the car!" Simon went. He could have skipped out, but then everyone (and he meant everyone) would have wanted to know what was wrong, and he couldn't tell them. This, horrible as it was, wasn't his to tell. Besides, Kevin was a police officer, so who would believe him? It was doubtful whether Lucy would back him up.  
  
The bowling alley had changed in the decade since they'd last gone, but their family had changed more. 'Dad better have a good reason for this,' Simon thought. 'Getting all of us together on a Friday night. Nothing could be wrong, could it? Nah, he doesn't know about Lucy. He's probably decided he has some medical problem without even going to a doctor.'  
  
"Let's play on teams," Dad said, "wouldn't that be fun?" the suggestion fell flat, and only Dad wasn't surprised. The family couldn't get it together, nothing could go right. Randomly, Dad would pull one of them aside, and tell them he loved them. Simon was convinced he was overdoing it. What could he be going through, open-heart surgery? Whatever it was, he didn't have a fallen angel on his hands.  
  
He'd always thought Lucy was perfect. Quirky, definitely, more than a little odd, but still, she was his older sister. She'd never gotten into trouble like Mary had, and she'd always had time to take care of Sam and David. She'd fall in and out of love with more guys than Simon had even seen girls, but she'd still had time to do things like build a house for Habitat for Humanity and still get better grades than he got. But now the older sister that he'd sometimes hated and sometimes loved had fallen. And he couldn't help her. Families were supposed to help each other, and he couldn't do anything!  
  
Needless to say, none of this had a very good effect on Simon's bowling.  
  
Dad tried to talk to him, more than once, but Simon kept brushing him off. He couldn't afford a heart-to-heart, not now, when given half a chance he'd tell what he'd seen in the bathroom so few hours earlier. And-what would Kevin do to him if he told? He carried a gun.could he kill? 'It is a long step up from just hitting my sister. How can I even think that so calmly? Just hitting my sister?'  
  
'How am I ever going to do this?'  
  
Yelling bounced around the family, and those around them titled their heads to take notice. 'Sorry, I've got too much on my mind to care about my family's reputation. Besides, I'm not the one who's lying to his wife.'  
  
They left the bowling alley, half the clan not speaking to the other half the clan, Lucy sitting in silence, "fighting" with Kevin, and Simon, feeling as if his entire world had just collapsed, and no one could tell but him.  
  
"Simon," his dad stopped him before he went upstairs. "What was with you tonight? We went out to have to quality family time and you don't say two words to anybody! What's your problem?"  
  
"My problem? You have no idea what my life is like. You have no idea what it's like to be your son, no idea of the things people ask me to do, the things I have to do, the things I can't talk about."  
  
"Simon, your problem is that you think your life's bad and everyone is horrible to you. That people expect a greater standard of behavior from you because you're a minister's son. Maybe they do. Maybe they should."  
  
Simon drags something from the zombie-memory of the bowling alley. "At the bowling alley you said you were scared of what would happen if you weren't around to teach me the things that you want me to learn. I'll tell you what would happen if you weren't around. I'd be a normal guy," 'I wouldn't have to help my sister bandage wounds from her boyfriend,' he silenced the thought and went on. "without having to live up to your ideas of what's right and what's wrong.I'd be happy."  
  
"Simon, you don't mean that."  
  
His Dad is pained, but he goes on. "I think I do."  
  
"I love you," his dad says as he said so many times before.  
  
"Just love me less, would you?" Simon goes up the stairs, and leans against the wall, breathing hard. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said any of those things.  
  
Downstairs, he can hear his father moving around, and very softly praying. In a split-second, Simon decides, and goes back to the kitchen. "Dad."  
  
"Oh, is there something you didn't get to say?"  
  
"No, I want you to understand why I said what I said.and that I wasn't making it up."  
  
"Okay, tell me. What's so wrong in your life?"  
  
"Today I found out that Kevin hits Lucy. Hard." 


	5. Aftermath, With Dust

It is not the kind of thing you easily forget. When your father comes out of you sister's room in tears, and all he can say is, "Now she's scared of me," it changes you in ways that you can't even begin to believe.  
  
Lucy was gone. He was forced to believe that, to accept it. But he would find himself, looking for her for homework help or just to talk, but she wouldn't be there. And he would curse himself, 'Why didn't I notice it before? Why didn't I look for her before? If I had, maybe she wouldn't be gone now.'  
  
But he couldn't get it touch with her. He supposed Dad knew, but he might not even have been told. Lucy had left, been sent away, to save her, but unlike Mary, this time it was necessary, and this time there had been no other options.  
  
Kevin was gone. He'd been sent, not back to Buffalo, but to some little town in Nebraska or maybe Kansas. States nobody noticed, or really cared about.  
  
And so here he was. It seemed cliché to say that nothing would ever be the same, but it was the truth. What was he left with, after all? Mom just pretended Lucy never existed---it made it easier for her, rather than think she hadn't noticed her daughter's scars. After all, someone should have known.  
  
And always he saw the betrayal in her eyes. Everyone told him he'd done right to tell, that he protected her, that know Kevin couldn't get her anymore, but he couldn't stop seeing her eyes, half-frightened, but have angry. He promised not to tell. Simon knew that you were never supposed to keep secrets that might hurt someone else, but the people who gave that advice didn't have anything to help him now.  
  
And he blamed himself. He didn't have anything to help him here, for those he would have turned to blamed themselves too. Matt, far enough away that he'd never met Kevin, alone had nothing to reproach himself with. Robbie blamed himself, for the way he treated Lucy last year, and Dad blamed himself for being so oblivious.  
  
They all should have known, should have suspected that it would be Lucy, gentle, quiet Lucy, who this would happen to. Mary could fight back, and she had, once. Ruthie could avoid guys like that, but it was Lucy who could be trapped by them. And no one had even noticed. That was perhaps worst of all. All of them would just have assumed that Lucy was being immature and stone-walling for some stupid reason if Simon hadn't happened on her accidentally.  
  
But that didn't make it any better. Ben had left, after apologizing profusely for his brother and saying that he'd never thought it would happen again. At that remark, he'd been thrown out of the house, and drummed out of Glen Oak.  
  
Except there in lay the problem. They couldn't tell anyone else about this- not even the Colonel knew the entire story. He'd only been told that Lucy had needed to "find herself". Simon bitterly acknowledged that that was true-'but she wouldn't have needed to find herself if we hadn't been so blind!'  
  
Simon noticed then that the twins had gotten lost in the shuffle. In the flurry of Lucy's departure and Kevin's temper tantrum, no one had noticed them. Simon knew they had nothing to do with and couldn't even really be told anything beyond, "Lucy had to go away," but he couldn't help feeling jealous. They knew nothing of this; they hadn't seen their favorite sister bleeding from the hands of one who had been supposed to protect her.  
  
But she'd been so easy to miss. She'd stopped saying much, and unlike Mary she wasn't dating someone twice her age, nor was she in medical school. Aside from the big fuss she'd made about Kevin reading her diary.someone should have clued in with that, really.  
  
But no one had.  
  
Simon bathed David. Lucy had done a lot with them, but it was weird that they were being so neglected. Well, it had been a big shock. 'Just a little bit ago, we were normal. No, better than normal. And now.'  
  
David went into bed. Sam went into the bath. He'd taught Ruthie how to swim in the bathtub. Man, he'd been a goofy little kid. It was hard for him to see himself in that goofy little kid. "Did I do the right thing?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Sam merely burbled back at him. "You're no help," Simon told him gently.  
  
"Lucy," he replied.  
  
"She's gone."  
  
"Did bad man hurt Lucy?"  
  
"Yes," Simon was forced to answer. Sam didn't answer, and Simon put him to bed.  
  
"Goodnight guys. I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," they answered.  
  
And now he was alone. Everyone was too wrapped up in their blame to notice him. Simon shut his door and began to pray, "God, I know everything happens for the best, but if so, why did this happen to Lucy?"  
  
There was no answer.  
  
Simon hadn't really expected one. God didn't talk to him, not even like He talked to his father, little nudges in the right direction. "God, if everything happens for a reason, why am I still so alone?" 


	6. Glimmer and Gleam

He woke and slept to anger. Anger at God, anger at Kevin, at his parents. He had always felt that Lucy was one of those who would do something wonderful for the world, but that was from long ago. He'd seen it in her eyes-Kevin had killed whatever was left of that girl. And his parents had just stood by-even helped him! Simon knew he shouldn't blame his parents for not knowing. After all, he had only discovered by accident, but even so.  
  
After September 11, he'd been forced to acknowledge that there are some problems parents can't fix, but why couldn't they even protect their daughter in their own home?  
  
Simon took a deep breath, and continued to stare out the window. At least it was raining. For the past week the sun had shone brightly, and he didn't think he could bare it anymore. The weather should take notice when something so drastic happened. Sunlight made a mockery of all the grief he was feeling. He had, briefly, wondered if it would be better if Lucy had died. Then he could mourn, properly and in the end, forget about it.  
  
But this way, she was out there, and he couldn't get in touch with her. Sure, Matt was in New York and Mary was in Florida, but both of them had been strong in their own ways. No one had tried to break either of them. He couldn't stay out of school either-something about trying to present a "no-problem" front to the people of Glen Oak. Frankly, Simon thought that the people of Glen Oak would unify behind them and Eric would be accepted as a leader even more so than he was now.  
  
Simon had never felt so helpless in his life.  
  
'I couldn't help Lucy. Heck, I thought Kevin was a pretty good guy 'cause he got Ruthie to stop eavesdropping. I never suspected that he would beat her.' The rain fell some more, and he thought. Like a lamb led to slaughter. Lucy had gone willingly to Kevin that was what freaked him out the most. 'What if I'm like that, when I grow up?'  
  
He'd flirted with the idea of suicide, but he knew nothing would come of it. Flirting was exactly what he did. The sacrifice that resulted in his death wouldn't help anybody, least of all Lucy or someone like her out. If anything, they would have one less person to help them out if they needed it.  
  
"But if I did die, would I leave anything important behind me? Have I done anything? Sure, I dropped that baby off at the hospital, but that wasn't even that great-only Claire will ever know I did anything, anyway. And so what if I did safe Lucy's life? I couldn't protect her. Face, it Simon, no one's life has been at all improved because you've walked this earth."  
  
He faced that thought squarely, but couldn't gainsay it. It was true, after all, he'd spent all his time rebelling and claiming to be a man and goofing off that he hadn't done anything. At all. The thought was depressing, but he didn't shrink from it. The very anger he'd been feeling helped him here, to not falter.  
  
"Fine. My death would help no one, and my life's been no good up till now. So what can I do? What can I do to change all that? To make Lucy be better and come home! To make Kevin go away." Revenge had never really crossed his mind. He'd always been grown up in that respect.he could see how beating up Kevin would probably only get himself hurt and serve to feed Kevin's psychosis.  
  
He then got a glimmer of something, deep in his soul. Like there was light, and he just had to go through the darkness to get to it. "That's it." His voice was far firmer than in been in days, even though he spoke to no one. "I'll give my life. I'll live because Lucy can't do whatever she was supposed to do anymore."  
  
With that thought, the idea of his homework became bearable again. You have to know things to be able to change the world, after all. Simon closed his blinds on the rain and turned on his light. There were things he could do. Maybe someone at Crawford would know how he could help. Or maybe someone at school. But there was something he could do, maybe, if not to help Lucy, to make sure it didn't happen to anyone else.  
  
Simon flipped open his chemistry book. It didn't seem like much, but maybe he could best serve Lucy by being a good son, and a good brother, and a good person.  
  
His English paper would be easy to write now, for he'd discovered a universal truth. For it, or anything to really count, you must live for your beliefs, not die for them. 


	7. Without Any Fear

It was Christmas now. In Glen Oak, there was never any snow, but there was a general feeling of peace and happiness. But not for Simon. Never again for Simon.  
  
Even with his universal truth, his universe itself was a colder, smaller, place. The world was not quite so bright; for all that he lived every moment and took every step with a grim sort of purpose. His father hadn't even blinked when Simon said he was joining the swim team.  
  
"It'll be good for you to have something to do," Eric had said.  
  
"Yes," was all Simon had replied not wanting to admit that it was all to get into college, into a good college, the kind from which he could change the world. For that was what he lived for, and that was his growing and his breathing and his sorrowing, to change the world, to make his sacrifice and offer it to Lucy and have it be perhaps his redemption, if not hers. They still heard nothing from her; for all that it was Christmas and family time. He knew, in the pits of his soul that this would be hardest for her.  
  
But it was hard to see beyond his own sorrow.  
  
And so he swam. When school ended, he swam six hours a day, one practice in the morning, one at night. He didn't say much and his teammates kind of ignored him. He was good, surprisingly, good enough that he didn't get picked on, though he wasn't breaking records. And at meets, when the team broke into little groups, like the one with the girl backstroker and the two male distance swimmers, he sat alone and did homework.  
  
And his grades were now impeccable. It had been a struggle to raise them, but he was doing it to redeem himself and so it was necessary and so he did it. His teachers had been surprised, but said nothing, yet. He talked in class enough for the points, after all, and teenagers were strange. What could you do if they didn't come to you?  
  
And Simon discovered something else, a corollary to things he'd already known: that if you are good, people leave you alone. You will be under appreciated, and people will say nice things about you to your parents, but everyone will leave you alone. He was now a good student, a dedicated swimmer (even if it was distance, and it did hurt) and a good, church-going boy.  
  
And so now when people spoke about the Camdens they said, "Oh yes, and such good boys. The oldest son is in medical school, you know, and the younger is an intelligent, athletic, well-behaved student. But those girls." (Here they would shake their heads in shame.) "That Mary always was such a flighty child, and then Lucy just vanished one day. And we all had such hopes for her too. But at least the parents have two good children to comfort them."  
  
Simon knew they said this, but he did not speak out. At times, when the gossip got particularly bad, when Lucy had run off with Captain Smith's OLDER brother and joined with Mary in some weird relationship down in Florida, Simon wanted to scream and cry, "Don't you realize?!? You stupid old biddies. Lucy was being abused! One of the few people in the world she should have been able to trust without reservation destroyed that trust and her! And all the things I do that you think are so great? I'm only doing them because Lucy can't have the life she deserved, and I have to do something to redeem humanity to my sister!"  
  
But boys who made scenes called in shrinks and had problems, and couldn't get letters saying they were responsible adults, so Simon didn't. And every day was hard, trying not to let slip exactly what had happened. He didn't like hearing his sister slandered and himself so unrightfully praised. But there was nothing he could do about it, nothing.  
  
School was out, now. Lucy had loved Christmas. She would start signing Christmas carols right after Halloween, and wouldn't stop until January. Except for the year when school had been particularly bad, she had even loved being in the living Nativity, something none of the rest of the family enjoyed. And with those memories of his favorite sister drifting around in the scents and the very air, Simon was again reminded of what he had promised himself.  
  
He was going to go to college. His grades were good enough, he had an activity, and his PSAT scores had been excellent. And each of those went a step to fulfilling the promise he had made to himself, to Lucy and to God. But there was more to that promise, a part of it that was uncomfortable, and more than a little bit scary. But he had to do it now.  
  
And so on the first day of Christmas break, Simon went questing in downtown Glen Oak. It was a part of the city that most of his family avoided like the plague. And perhaps with good reason. Unlike where they lived, Crawford had no influence here. There were cigarettes, and worse should he want it. And the guys at school talked about what you could get down here. But Simon was questing for redemption, something a lot harder to find then pleasure or addiction. Eventually, though, he found it. And when he had found it, he went in, wondering if there really was something he could do to help those like Lucy. Maybe there wasn't, he was a guy, after all. But he had to try, for Lucy's sake and for his own. And so Simon entered The Glen Oak Women's Shelter. 


	8. Nor Doth He Sleep

(Note: I'm completely abolishing Cecilia and anything that had to do with her. Author's prerogative.)  
  
"Yes?" a woman sitting at a desk looked up as he entered.  
  
"I was wondering if I could do something to help." Simon's voice caught in his throat and he cursed himself for being so stupid.  
  
"Sorry son, we're not hiring."  
  
"No, nothing like that. Do you need volunteers or anything?"  
  
The woman stood up and gave him a several times over. "We could always use the help. Here," she handed him a sheaf of papers and a pencil. "Fill these out."  
  
Simon sat in an empty chair near the desk and read the questions. The first few were easy. His name was Simon Camden, and he was sixteen. His address and his phone number hadn't changed in all the time he'd known them. As a reference he listed "Reverend Eric Camden" and his English teacher from school. And then came the hard questions. Hmm--previous work experience. No, running an escort service probably didn't count. Especially not here. He wrote a brief explanation. 'As a high school student who is also on the swim team I haven't had the opportunity to hold a job. It seemed more important to me to help the world somehow.' The rest of the questions were easily answered. This was something he had thought about before, after all, and something he had to do. So he did it.  
  
When he finished, he handed the application back to the woman seated behind the desk. She looked through it and said nothing for a moment. "Hmmmm. I have a few more questions for you. Do you mind?"  
  
"No," Simon answered, hoping against hope to make a good impression.  
  
"How much experience do you have with children?"  
  
"A lot, actually. I have a sister who is four years younger than me, and twin brothers who just turned four."  
  
"Hmmm." He couldn't tell exactly what that hmmm meant, but decided to take it as a positive sign. God couldn't be so cruel as to crush him just when he was searching for salvation. He wouldn't be. He wouldn't.  
  
"Simon, I have one more question."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"Why do you want to do this? It's certainly not a happy position."  
  
Simon debated his choices for answers. He could lie. It would be wrong, but it wouldn't be the first time someone had lied about this little "situation" as his father called it so often. Not his daughter, his "situation." But then again, this woman didn't seem to know anything about the Glen Oak Camdens, so maybe he should tell the truth. The truth might make her trust him, and he did want to do this. No. He needed to do this.  
  
"Well, a month or so ago I found out that my sister was being beaten by her boyfriend. It completely ruined her. And this is something I can do to- oh, I don't know. Redeem humanity. Or at least myself."  
  
"I'm not surprised."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"It's not often we get teenage boys in here. I thought it might be something like that."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Simon, I'll call you and tell you about working here and whether or not you'd be right for it sometime soon."  
  
"Okay Tha-that'd be good."  
  
Simon turned and left the low building. The cold wind blew down his collar, but he was almost-secure in this, the final measure of his salvation. Simon became to hum an old tune under his breath. The bells would ring on Christmas Day, indeed. 


	9. Not Even Close to Perfection

Simon leaned against the door. He'd just gotten home for swim practice, and in a couple of hours his teammates would be around to pick him up for the Girl's Sectional Meet. He was tired. It had been a late night, first TP'ing the girls' houses, and then going to practice in the morning. And the woman from the shelter still hadn't called him back, so he had no way of knowing whether he was acceptable or not. Perhaps he would break, after all. It had to be easier than the endless not knowing.  
  
"Simon?"  
  
"Dad, I already told you. The girls wanted us to do it! At practice this morning they were all bubbly and happy about it!"  
  
"I know, son. I just got an interesting phone call while you were gone."  
  
"Oh." Simon stated, his voice dead.  
  
"Yes. You've been accepted as a volunteer at the Women's Shelter downtown. You're supposed to go down on Monday. But I think it's time we had a talk."  
  
"Can't I shower first? Or sleep?"  
  
"No. I've been delaying this conversation for too long as it is." His dad gestured, and Simon followed him into the office.  
  
"I take it this phone call is related to what happened to Lucy?"  
  
Simon fidgeted a little and then replied, "Yes."  
  
"I know we've never talked about it. It's very hard to-your mother and I blame ourselves for not seeing, not noticing. It was by chance that you found out. She was our baby girl, and we couldn't even protect her in this house. Someone destroyed my daughter, and I helped him!"  
  
Simon hadn't expected this flow of emotion, but he merely shrugged.  
  
"You know, Matt blames himself for not being here to save Lucy, like he had all those other times. Mary blames herself for bringing Ben here who brought Kevin."  
  
"I didn't know that."  
  
"Ruthie thinks she should have found out. She's supposed to know everything. And Sam and David-well, they are the only ones with nothing to reproach themselves about."  
  
"I should have guessed! Should have realized! Matt went around protecting her all the time, and Lucy had always been with good guys! But we all knew what she was like and we ignored everything that we should have noticed!"  
  
"I know. And I can't even look myself in the eye anymore."  
  
Everything paused.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"Lucy?" his father asked. It seemed weird to hear her name after so long. "She's off. In one of the places I know. Healing, I hope. She doesn't want to hear from us, any of us, until she contacts us first. She's very different than she used to be. I haven't talked to her since she got on the plane. I've tried, but she doesn't want to hear from any of us. She always had lower self-esteem then the rest of you, and after that" Simon could hear his father deleting any number of words for Kevin, "was through was her, it was worse than it had ever been. I don't know why it had to happen to Lucy. And I don't know why none of us saw it!"  
  
The pain on his father's face was very real. It was almost frightening. Simon still wasn't to his parents not being able to solve all his problems.  
  
"But even so, Simon, I'm proud of you. You have built a new life for yourself after Lucy left. Your grades are better than any of your siblings have ever been, and your swimming, and now this. I'm just sorry I had to sacrifice a daughter to realize I gained a son." 


	10. This Very Familiar Stranger

It was very strange, Simon decided. Strange to be at this pool, watching all these girls in bathing suits. It hadn't occurred to his parents that being on the swim team meant being around girls who weren't completely dressed. And he didn't feel any need to tell them. After all, there was only there was only one pair of swimmers who were dating. And even that had apparently only happened this year. They were still in a group that included the other two male distance swimmers. Actually, most of the guys on the team seemed to like that girl, or at least be nice to her.  
  
'Hmmm,' he'd never thought about that before. 'Actually, she does look a little lost down there right now. All of the people she talks too are up here and can't go down there.' He watched the blonde for a little bit longer. There was something familiar about her that he couldn't quite place. Right now she was getting ready for her race, curled into a ball listening to her music. 'Do I remember her from elementary school? No, I don't think I would have forgotten her. She's certainly unusual. And I think Eliora is a name I would remember.'  
  
The issue became to nag at him. He hadn't given her much thought before, because first he had had other girls to think about, and then the bombshell had been dropped on his universe. She was blonde, but it was California, there were a lot of blondes. She moved up for her race, and as they read her name over the intercom, to the two guys standing next to him started yelling. 'Hmmm. I never spent any time around athletes before this, so that can't be it either.' She finished her race, and the two guys next to him left to meet her outside.  
  
As they left, Simon realized what had been driving him crazy throughout the meet. 'She's Lucy!' after his brain finished reeling, Simon thought again, 'Except not, because she's obviously a different person. But she's like Lucy, somehow, in strange ways. She looks like her, she's pretty smart, and she does things to make the world a better place.' And then Simon realized what had really been bugging him, 'Eliora is like Lucy except in the ways that are bad.' Simon had heard Eliora threaten to break heads, and to beat people up. He had no doubt but that she could do it. And those two guys she hung out with were the nicest people he had ever met. 'Which must mean Eliora is Lucy without being the Lucy that Kevin could beat up. I wonder-if I talk to her, will I learn something about Lucy and why things happened the way they did?'  
  
Ray and William came back, talking. "She's not happy with how she swam," William said.  
  
"I can't say I blame her," Ray said, "she is a perfectionist."  
  
"Oh, you guys," Ray's mother cut in. "I think she looked great. Did you tell her how much you were cheering?"  
  
"What do you think?" William asked, a little guiltily.  
  
"Guys!" Ray's mom rolled her eyes.  
  
And then Simon wondered, 'Lucy was a perfectionist too. So does Eliora have better judgment? Or was she just luckier? And how's that fair? In fact, of all the girls in the entire world, why did it have to happen to Lucy?' Simon shook himself then, realizing what he had thought. 'No, I don't wish that on anyone else. But it just isn't fair!'  
  
"Hey, Simon," Ray asked. "Are you okay? You look a little out of it."  
  
"Nah, I'm fine, I was just thinking."  
  
"About what? The end of the world? You certainly look depressed."  
  
Ray's mom cut in, "Simon, you know everyone from both teams is going to Pete's Pizza after the meet, right?"  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
"Well, we are. Do you need a ride?"  
  
"Sure. Let me call my parents," Simon stood up.  
  
"All right."  
  
It was fine, surprisingly. But then, his father had been different lately. So maybe he was less worried about outside influences now. Heck, maybe if Lucy had had some outside influences none of this would have happened. Simon tried to clear his head of the what-ifs that had been floating in it since Lucy had gone, but he failed.  
  
The girls won the meet by about 60 points, more than anyone expected them too. And as Simon gathered his stuff together and watched his team-mates follow tradition by ripping off their shirts; he tried to plan his strategy. He knew he had to talk to Eliora, but what would he say? 'Hi, you're a lot like my sister, but different, and I need to talk to you to find out how your different so I can help my sister recover after her boyfriend started abusing her.' On second thought, maybe, 'Hi, I'm Simon Camden,' would be better. But he had to admit, together with whatever plan he finally came up with and his meeting at the shelter in two days, Simon had more of a start than he'd ever dreamed possible. 


	11. The Odd One Out

Simon followed Ray. He was doing a lot of following, lately. There, at a booth in the back corner of Pete's Pizza, was Eliora, scrunched into herself. Simon wanted to turn tail and run, because Lucy had curled into herself when she had a problem as well. But he squared his shoulders and watched. With the ease of familiarity, Ray slid in across from her. Simon just stood there, looking forlorn, not realizing that he would seem like an intruder. Eliora shook herself and said, as if from a great distance, "Simon, do you want to sit with us?"  
  
"Uh, sure. Do you mind?"  
  
Ray shrugged. "No," he patted the seat next to him, and Simon sat.  
  
For a while, no one said anything. Eliora finally spoke up, "Ray did you do my house?"  
  
"No, I think Matt's group did."  
  
"Yeah," Simon spoke up. "That was us."  
  
"Oh. Well, don't take this the wrong way, after all, you are new at this, but you guys did a cruddy job on my house."  
  
"Which one's yours?" Simon asked.  
  
"The one across from Barron's."  
  
"Hm. Maybe we did," Simon was forced to admit.  
  
"Don't worry about it, I'm just taking my anger at myself out on you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't do it."  
  
And now she didn't sound like Lucy, didn't seem like Lucy. She certainly had more presence of mind than Lucy did. And yet.William walked into the restaurant, and slid in next to Eliora. "I'm just depressed," she finished.  
  
Immediately, even though he had just walked into the conversation, William pulled her into his arms. "No, don't be depressed. So what you didn't swim as well as you wanted to. You still swam really well."  
  
"No I didn't. And I should have done better. I could have done better. A 1:12 is horrible!"  
  
Ray reached over and patted her hand. "And you're still having a bad run of things?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It'll be okay."  
  
"And you'll be okay," William said, stroking her hair. "I know you'll be okay."  
  
Simon again felt like an intruder. He shouldn't have been sitting there, watching her pain spill out onto her face, even if she was like his sister. And yet, the longer he sat by her and the more he watched, the more he could see Lucy in her. Now he didn't want to see Lucy in this other forlorn girl, even one as surrounded by care as Eliora was. And maybe that was it: even in the earliest stages of things, Kevin never just held Lucy. He always kissed her, or made out with her. He never did any of the things Simon had done with Deana, the last girl Simon had felt anything towards. They had never held hands, never merely hugged. But maybe it was just luck, because Ray was being kind and gentle too, and he wasn't even dating the girl!  
  
Finally, Eliora pulled herself up straight. "Thanks guys. And sorry Simon, I shouldn't have broken down like that in front of you. I've probably scared you away."  
  
"Oh," Simon said, shaken. "No, it's not a problem, you just remind me of my sister, that's all."  
  
"Lucy?" Ray asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I remember her. Don't be insulted, 'Lora, she was pretty nice." And in that comment, Simon began to understand the dynamics of their friendship. He remembered how Lucy had sometimes needed an interpreter for the world and for other people, and how once Matt and Mary moved, no one had taken over that role. Frankly, he had assumed Kevin was doing that.  
  
'I should have picked up where Matt and Mary left off. I knew that she needed that, needed the extra explanation of a world that didn't always act like we were taught it should. I knew that, knew that she was becoming a minister for a reason, so she could try and bring the world around to what she thought it should and could be. So why didn't I notice when she changed so much? Why didn't I see?'  
  
"Okay, so what's this I hear about being on Anna's roof?"  
  
"That was my little brother," Ray said. "You know how he is."  
  
"That was my group. I didn't know we woke her up."  
  
"No, but you scared her mother. Anna's comes into practice and goes, 'They got on my roof!'"  
  
"That's us. Scaring innocent people out of sound sleep to us on their roof!" William laughed, evilly.  
  
"Well," Eliora laughed, "I know that would frighten me out of my wits!"  
  
"You have wits?" Ray asked.  
  
"More than you!"  
  
"Good point."  
  
Simon again watched them interact; realizing that there were three years (at least) that he would never catch on between them. He could feel the inside jokes in everything they said, sliding beneath the words he heard to send all of them into gales of laughter. 'And Kevin and Lucy never did that either. Kevin always had something bad to say, why he wouldn't want to go out with her, or why she should be friends with Roxanne. Maybe it's because I've never had a regular relationship. Maybe it's because Lucy never did either. But even so, how could I have been so blind?"  
  
"When the next time you're volunteering?" William asked Eliora.  
  
"Monday after school. In my glorious practice-free afternoon! I decided to give it some extra time this week. Maybe it'll help me out of my slump."  
  
"Wait, where do you volunteer?"  
  
Eliora looked at Simon. "The Glen Oak Women's Shelter. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because I start my first day there on Monday."  
  
Eliora smiled at him. "Well then. That's fantastic! I'll see you there." She leaned against William's shoulder, and Simon kicked himself again. 'Lucy never went to Kevin for comfort either.' He shook himself. 'No. I can redeem myself. And I'll find out why Lucy. I will. I will. I will!' 


	12. Dark Against the Light

For Simon Camden, time passed. Girl's State, Guy's Sectionals (in which he placed 9th) and then Guy's State and swimming was over. His life fell into a rhythm and the seed that had been planted by all that had gone before began to germinate.  
  
He slept little and ate less. He worked hard, and his grades stayed high. He stopped wearing an earring and started participating in class. He began to smile at his teammates, both male and female, when he passed them in the halls, and one day his father gave him enough money for the letter jacket he had earned.  
  
At the Center, Simone worked with the children of the women who had come for safety. He learned he had to be gentle, he learned to comfort the children who cried too much and the children who cried too little. He learned to be responsible and to forget himself. In short, he finally became what he had been waiting all his life.  
  
Simon Camden was now a man.  
  
And so it was March, and then April. During one of their few joint breaks, Simon asked Eliora the least of the three questions that had been on his mind. "So what do you do here?"  
  
"I'm the resident jester."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The jester was usually the one person in the entire court who could tell the truth with impunity. So I tell truths."  
  
"And that means?" he questioned the girl who could be and never was his fallen sister.  
  
"I'm with the kids who are a little younger than us and the girls our age who are running from boyfriends."  
  
"Do I know them?"  
  
"Maybe," she shrugged. "Some of them."  
  
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Simon asked, his heart beating faster.  
  
"NO. But I may not answer."  
  
"Why do you work here?"  
  
"I'm paying a debt. I can see in myself that if things were different, I could very easily be someone who needed this place. As it is, I am someone who hits back."  
  
And Simon remembered Ray and William and Eliora. The wordless gestures and the current that flew between Eliora and William. And he remembered Lucy and prayed for strength to ask one more question.  
  
"But why are you here?" Eliora asked first.  
  
"Ray told you about my sister, right?"  
  
"A little. That she's gone now."  
  
"Yeah. Ummm. She left because her boyfriend, someone all of us wanted her to marry was hitting her. And had broken her soul."  
  
"Oh," she put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"Yeah, actually. You are a lot like her in some ways. Could you tell me why you would hit back and Lucy just stood there?"  
  
Eliora began to speak, as if form far away. "I've had low self-esteem on and off for years. I go through bouts where if I met someone like your sister's tormentor I would accept it. And yet I have parents and friends and a boyfriend who have always supported me when I was falling apart. I may have wanted to be invisible, but they wouldn't let me. Perhaps it's personality. I've always been a little violent. Maybe luck, that I met Ray and William when I did. Before I met them, I didn't know what it meant to have supportive friends. So I can't tell you why her and not me. I don't know why not me."  
  
Simon said nothing. He hadn't really expected this out-pouring of a near- stranger's soul. And yet that wasn't an answer. Mere chance had destroyed Lucy? That wasn't fair!  
  
"Simon, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known."  
  
"How can you say that? Why didn't I see?"  
  
"Did it ever occur to you to look for something like this?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then it isn't your fault!"  
  
Simon turned away, and Eliora fell silent. Then he spoke, "All I can do is not be Kevin!"  
  
"And you to know that that is enough."  
  
Half-crying, Simon looked over his shoulder. "And maybe someday I will. But I don't now!" He walked away, leaving all the rest of his old self behind him. 


	13. Letters from Lucy

The envelope was sitting on his bed when he came in. On it was written in vaguely familiar handwriting "Simon Camden" and his address. The postmark was smudged and there was no return address. That ruled out a recruiting college and there was no one else he knew that would want or need to send him a letter.  
  
Nevertheless, he picked up the envelope and slit it with his fingernail. Inside was a plain sheet of notebook paper, with writing that got more and more familiar the longer he stared at it. He began to read.  
  
"Dear Simon: Writing is very hard for me now. It didn't use to be, and that's why I thought I could write sermons, even though I wasn't all that creative. There were always words. But there aren't any more. I just feel empty inside. Even so, I called Dad for the first time last week."  
  
Simon paused. He had known when he began to read the letter, but this solidified it. Lucy had written him. Lucy. Had. Written. HIM!  
  
"He was surprised at first. And then I think he was happy to hear from me. That surprised me. I don't think I'm really aware of the fact that I affect other people's lives anymore. Most the time I don't even think I do. But some things he said made me want to write to you. Simon, I'm really proud of you for working at the Women's Shelter. That's really good of you. And I'm really impressed that you actually have a letter jacket. That's something no Camden had done before. Matt wanted one, but I think he was too scared to try. And thank you for saving me.  
  
"I'm not going to include a return address on this letter. Sorry. I wish I could. But I just can't- Love, Lucy."  
  
There the letter ended. Simon didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected any of what he was doing to get back to Lucy-not really anyway. For all that he had been doing everything for some kind of redemption, he had never expected this. But it meant that because of that she had broken her silence to the family with him! Him, and not Mary or Matt, people he had thought she would go to.  
  
He wanted to write back to her. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right, that she would be okay and he would be okay, and everything would go back to normal. 'But maybe that's what she doesn't want,' he finally thought. 'Maybe our family wasn't normal in the first place.'  
  
So he continued what he had been doing. SATs were coming up, and he needed to study. He had to get out of Glen Oak, and he needed a scholarship to do it. That meant he needed a high score. He wouldn't be valedictorian, not like Matt, but maybe this would be enough. Then, a week later, there was another one.  
  
"Dear Simon: Getting back in touch with my family is supposed to help me heal, so here I am again. In the past few months I've been trying and trying to make myself a self-contained entity. I contain all my own emptiness."  
  
Reading that made Simon want to hunt out his father and make him confess to where Lucy was. She was more hurt than he'd believe and it was all there fault!  
  
"Yet that doesn't make you human. I know that. But there's a big difference between knowing something and wanting to act on it. And I'm sorry, Simon, but I don't want to act on it fully just yet. The bruises he left me have faded but my soul still aches. I hope you understand. I'm trying and trying but I don't think trying is going to be enough.  
  
"I'm studying here. He taught me that everything I thought could be disproven. And while that isn't a comfortable place to stand, but still I stand. So I study.everything I can get my hands on. So don't feel too bad, Simon. Love, Lucy."  
  
'Lucy,' Simon thought. 'You don't have to apologize. I should apologize. I should beg pardon of you. I should have known.' While Simon felt that these reading Lucy's pain should put salt on open wounds, it wasn't. Lucy seemed to want to make him feel better, and that made him realize that she was a far stronger person than he'd ever thought. Which meant that this wasn't the disaster that he thought it was. Or-it still was, but now he could see both of them surviving. For the first time, he could see them both coming out whole.  
  
And so Simon lived, lived as truly as he could, something he had somehow learned (though he wasn't quite sure how) and every so often he got letters. They were always short, and they never had a return address. And yet, in each of them he could see that things were getting a little lighter. Just like when the sun rises, it was imperceptible, and you wouldn't be able to see it if you weren't looking for it. But Simon was looking, and Simon could see it.  
  
Then, about two months later, the envelope on his bed had one small, but very important change. There was a return address! Simon hurriedly ripped it open and noticed two things fell out, a picture and a letter. He read the letter first.  
  
"Dear Simon: I realize that I have no way of knowing if you've even read any of the letters I've sent you. I hope you have. In fact, (I'm taking a deep breath as I write this) I hope you'll write me back. You don't have to, but I want you to. I think I'm ready for that now. After all, you're my brother and I love you.  
  
"I'm not going to say that I'm better than before this happened. I still don't know why this happened to me, and I still wish it hadn't. But it's been a year since the last time I saw him and.and I can.grow. I'm finally beginning to see some parts of Lucy in me again, something I was afraid I would never see again.  
  
"Simon, this is something else I can do now. I forgive you. I want you to forgive yourself. I know you feel like you should have noticed sooner. I feel like I should have gotten out, gotten help myself. But I didn't and you didn't. And while I hate that this happened to me and I have a ton of regrets, but it's okay. Simon, I forgive you. Enclosed is a picture of what I look like now. I'm a lot different. But I'm still your sister. So write me, Simon, please. Love, Lucy."  
  
Simon stared at the picture. She was right; it didn't look much like the Lucy he remembered. The girl in the picture had brown hair that was caught up in a pony tail behind her head. She was wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, a jean jacket and tennis shoes. She stared straight into the camera, and she looked like someone Simon wouldn't mind knowing. She looked like someone he could like as a friend, as well as love as a sister.  
  
And then what she had said sunk in. She forgave him! He wasn't going to be Kevin! He would be himself-and maybe, just maybe it would be enough. And Simon, student, swimmer, volunteer, brother, man, was able for the first time to tell himself something. "I forgive you," he told himself out loud, the words feeling strange on his tongue. "I forgive myself. And I will make sure there is no next time."  
  
And Simon, feeling as if his penance had been served for all that it would change his life, sat down to write his sister a letter. 


End file.
